


Sweet Dreams

by orphan_account



Category: The Avengers, rise of the guardians
Genre: Other
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-01-05
Updated: 2013-01-05
Packaged: 2017-11-23 16:46:53
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,194
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/624377
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>After being put to bed, a young Peter falls into one of his recurring nightmares, only afterwards finding out that he is the soul believer in the bogeyman himself</p>
            </blockquote>





	Sweet Dreams

“Goodnight Peter, sweet dreams.” Steve muttered, lowering his lips down onto the boy’s forehead. Tony merely smiled in the distance, waving goodnight before heading back to his room. Peter didn’t mind though, ever since he was born, from what he could remember, Tony never kissed him or wished him goodnight. Maybe it was because he knew that all the night really held for you, and that was nightmares and cruel visions.

“’Night papa,” Peter smiled, blinking lightly the second Steve turned off the light, letting his eyes adjust. The door softly shut, leaving him alone, the only light being cast from his window on the other side of the room.

A light whimper rose from Peter’s throat, as he attempted to shut his eyes and let his thoughts carry him away from the darkness of the night. He knew however, that no matter how hard he tried to avoid it, he would have to face his nightmare.

He sighed, burying his head into his pillow, leaving only enough space for his mouth, allowing him to breath.

And just like that, he was there. The sandy, rocky setting of who knows where. In the distance, a single gunshot fired followed almost immediately by an ear-piercing scream.

A slight tremor ran through the boy’s body, and goosebumps slowly began rising on his arms. He was terrified, he was always terrified. Eleven times now he’s had this dream, and every single time he becomes terrified. He knew what was next by now, and if you wait…

There it is.

A rumble began shaking the ground, and Peter watched helplessly as tens upon hundreds of pebbles and gravel began shaking.

He turned to run, but there was suddenly no way. A black wall loomed dangerously over him, almost as if it were watching his every movement. A gasp rose from his dry throat, as he whipped back around to the other side only now to see that—

A heavy gasp emerged from his stomach, as he began panting heavily, with a bead of sweat trailing slowly down the side of his face. It was still pitch black out, but he was awake nonetheless. As the boy’s eyes adjusted, he could slightly make out a slim figure at the end of his bed.

“Papa?” He asked quietly, his voice quivering.

“What’s the matter Peter, are you afraid?” A deep British accent grinned deviously, turning slightly to face the boy, only revealing the man’s profile. He seemed to have shoulder length raven hair, with a mischievous smile. In his hands he seemed to be playing with a thin, almost liquid, black substance. From the look of it, it looked like sand. Black sand.

“Who are you? Where are my parents?”

“Not to fear Peter, they are safe.” He mused, watching the sand with large—golden?—eyes.

“But who are you?”

The man turned fully around, the sand vanishing instantly. He gave the child a toothy grin, standing up to his full height of about 6”2. “I am the bogeyman. Isn’t that just terrifying?”

Peter crawled fully up against his headboard, curling up into the corner, and pulling the quilt up to his chin, debating whether or not to call to his parents. He watched the man with horror filled eyes. He didn’t know what to make of him, he wasn’t anything like he pictured. Instead of a creature it was just a-a man. Almost shadow-like.

“There’s no such thing. Is there?” Peter whispered, his voice trembling a bit. The Bogeyman glanced at him, looking the boy over and contemplating silently to himself.

“You tell me child.” He took a step towards the boy. “Who,” Another step, “is,” step, “Pitch,” another step, “Black?” By now, he stood right at the top of the bed, beside the pillows which Peter rested his head upon nightly. He watched Peter squirm in discomfort, and merely beamed.

“I don’t know!” Peter practically screamed, remembering however to keep his voice level.

The shadow beamed once more, taking a small step back, and raising his arms partially in the air, much like a priest would. “I am of course, I am the creator of the nightmares that stalk into your mind nightly, and these,” in his hand, a black horse formed from the sand, pawing the ground as if it were about to charge. Another one immediately formed in the other hand. “Well these are my creations. They are your nightmares, Peter. Now tell me, is the bogeyman real?” Pitch whispered, blowing the horses away in a single breath.

Peter quivered, trying to shrink farther into the corner, even though he was already right up against the wall. By now his pulse was racing, and his pupils were dilated, so it seemed as if his eyes were completely black. For someone so tiny, you’d never think they could withhold this much pure terror.

“B-but how can you be here?” The child swallowed, his eyes widening as Pitch leaned in, watching the boy’s every movement, pulling back only to smile to himself, and his work.

“Because you believe, boy.” Pitch’s voice was soft, unnatural for him as he resumed his spot on the edge of the bed, letting the sand slip through his fingers once more, his cat-like eyes watching it eagerly.

“Believe what?”

“In me.” The shadow turned around, grinning. “You believe in me, Peter. I have been invisible to children for millions of years, waiting for one little boy such as yourself to know how truly horrific the world out there is.” Another glance down at the sand, and then one at Peter. He tilted his head, much like a predator watching it’s prey. His eyes narrowed slightly, as he leaned in further, so that he and Peter were almost forehead to forehead.

The boy’s breathing suddenly went rigid, as if the life was just sucked out of him. He didn’t dare move, much less breathe or blink. He couldn’t stop staring into Pitch’s eyes, almost like hypnosis.

“I don’t want to believe in you,” The poor child’s voice by now was naught but a whisper, and a barely audible one at that. He watched in horror as Pitch nodded slowly, trying hard to get into the mind of this child, trying to understand how he believed in him. How this one boy in over a million years, could see him, yet tried hard to believe that he couldn’t.

“You know I would never hurt you,” The corner of his lip twitched into a smile, trying to be friendly. Trying to be a guardian, but he was no more than an outcast. Cast somehow to this house, this one particular house—but why? “Forget all of this Peter, I was never here. Perhaps you are right, maybe I am no more than a nightmare, haunting all of your dreams. Maybe it’s time the bogeyman wasn’t real anymore.” He gave a small sigh, before standing up back on the floor, watching Peter slink back out from his corner, as he slowly began to vanish until he was completely dissolved into the mere shadows of the world.

“Goodnight Peter,” Pitch’s voice whispered into the air, “sweet dreams.”


End file.
